Corrosive
by DLN-000
Summary: If the acid dripping from the ceiling does not slowly kill you, then you are almost certain that even slower the sound of it will. Rock Man 2.


Rock Man 2 is the first Rock Man game I beat. Yellow Devil kept stopping me in Rock Man 1.

* * *

**Corrosive**_  
_

The darkness does not speak. It doesn't have a voice, or a body, or a face. It is only there, an empty void of infinite possibilities –most less kind than you would hope for. The darkness doesn't touch you, or hurt you, but there are times when you can't help but learn to fear it, and it is then when it is given its one power, a unique gift that has haunted man, animal, and machine alike, ever since their dawn.

The unknown, the mystery of what's waiting behind the next corner; we all wonder what fate is laid in store for us, how the cards will play out, pulling us along with their every instruction. Some are excited to hear what tonight's show has to announce, but, for others –yourself for example–, it's a dreaded game of hide and seek, in which only you have the chance to lose everything.

There is nothing around you –no sound, no scent, no color. There's a heavy feeling of suffocating that seems to bite down upon your chest like some angry beast that won't loosen its grip until slain, but besides that all systems seem to be in order. Your head feels much clearer than you had expected it to be after coming so far, and despite the communication that's been broken off and left you completely fending for yourself, you've pulled through up until now, so you're determined you can finish this.

Drip-drop, splatter-patter; the drizzle from some unseen place, almost like the soft voice of a child that weeps from the ceiling above head –suddenly you don't feel so alone, but you don't admit that to yourself. You keep it in that subconscious area in your mind, where you still pretend to not have noticed and as if the thought had not even occurred to you. You look around carefully –wearily– just in case you were wrong though.

Drip-drop, something is stalking you from up ahead. The shadowed silence is pierced by that same sound, rhythmic like the melody from a genius composer. And it goes on, echoing.

You don't know how far this cavern goes or where it may lead you, but you remember the words of encouragement and faith that you received from your father and sister, and you are simply certain that no matter how dangerous you are prepared to face it. The light that shines dimly a few feet above you flickers like a fading beacon of hope, and you stare at it, blinking, and unmoving. Then you decide to not waste any more time here, and take your first step forward.

It gets darker as you travel further, but it doesn't take long for that darkness to reach an absolute point, in which you swear no matter what light attempted to be stolen it was all already gone and it could not possibly get any darker. The mysterious dripping from the ceiling continues, matching your movements with their eerily invisible presence. You still don't know what's causing them, but you don't glance behind or stop once you've started walking.

You keep yourself on the ready, in case anything ominous decides to jump at you, but the road seems oddly clear as you trek through it, no monsters nor creature spawning from the shadows to take advantage of your semi vulnerability. You can still see enough to put up a decent fight, and you have a well equipped sensory system to make up for this clouded eyesight, but it'd still be a risky thing battling down here, in such a limited space, although you've been anticipated it all along. You can't expect things to become so simple after all the barriers that were put before you previously.

Drip-drop, you haven't uncovered the source to the noise yet. Drip-drop, like liquid that oozes slowly off a ceiling. Drip-drop, like oil draining from your circuits. Drip-drop, like the ground slipping from right under their feet as they're thrown backwards and smashed into pieces. Drip-drop, like the water that fell from the sky to drench their broken and abandoned body.

No –you aren't going to think about that now. That sound is just a sound, wherever or by whomever it may come from. It has nothing to do with anything in your past, nothing to do with you in fact. It has nothing to do with the resentment or conflict quietly oppressed inside of you.

Splatter-patter; it's multiplied itself several times over by now, growing steadily louder and progressively closer. It's behind, in front, right above you and even down below. You can't see it, but you can feel it; and you know, eventually it will find the way to reach you.

You could run, you could run so fast you wouldn't care about anything that comes your way or stands already in it, but your body feels too frozen to do so. It's hesitating, thinking twice about its every step. You try to stand your ground boldly, but in the silence broken by the never-ending plop of some unknown matter, being still will take you nowhere –you need to keep moving, at whatever pace you can manage.

The void is filled by more void, and you aren't sure for how long you've been down here anymore. You haven't kept count, partially because you don't want to. The roof of these tunnels could be high or low but either way you don't dare reach out one of your hands to try and figure it out. The floor is consistently rocky and rugged, and it seems an awful lot like other terrain you've traveled before. There isn't much strange here except for the absolute pitch-blackness that startles you slightly from time to time, and the dribbling that's mirrored all round.

You remember his words, as you move your feet again and touch the hard surface with the bottom of your metal limbs. He said them to you with a crazy laugh, like you'd heard a couple of times before, and then flown away, to await you in that taunted place:

"Come and fight me then, if you dare! I warn you however –I still have more than enough power to destroy you, Rock Man!"

Yes, you're here for that purpose, to put an end to this battle he's begun. He wanted revenge on you for the first time you brought him down, and now he's pulled you along all this way, up to this point. The final climax of the story, as a figure of speech.

Drip-drop; the shadows seem to dance with the murky darkness still thick up ahead, grinning and laughing at the anxious tension that extends before you. You can't shake the feeling that something is horrible wrong here, whether it's the very emptiness of this place or the unseen foe that still lies beyond.

Drip-drop; if the sound really has come from all parts, then how have you evaded it so successfully? It must have hit you at least once, in all the time you've been out here; yet nothing has touched you, just like the darkness does not, because it has no face, or body, or voice.

Splash –you hear it make contact with your bluish armor, trickling down the area around your right shoulder and leaving a trail all the way down to the ground.

It leaves you, emitting that same splattering sound as it breaks into even tinnier drops upon the floor. A long, wet, cold mark is left in its wake, but you don't feel wet or cold at all.

You had a dream, many mornings ago, that the sky and the day had disappeared, and only a pitch-dark night was left behind, with no stars. Then the stars had appeared, from nothingness, falling like balls of blazing white flames. They were coming for you, and burnt at your body, as they got closer, the heat that surrounded them slowly harming you...

You looked up, for the first time since you'd set yourself to cross this seemingly endless abyss. The ceiling was as invisible as ever, but you could catch a faint trace of color up there now, flickering like the light that you had left behind at the mouth of this underground cavern.

Drip-drop, splatter-patter –the acid is burning your face.

You make a swift leap, and you're out danger's way. You can hear the sound still coming, as it continues to descend, but you're no longer standing directly below it, so you should be safe, at least until you move positions again.

The liquid that had been dropping from the roof like water from a rain cloud is painted a prime shade of vibrant red, collecting like puddles on the earth that you're amazed you missed up until now. You figure they must be sinking into the rock almost as quickly as they fall, for you met none on your road, until that one drop fell on your shoulder, and then the next on your face, and you felt a part of yourself break.

It was sinking into you too; even when it fell, it sank, left a part of itself behind. Your right arm still stings; your head hurts like it's been freshly torn. You don't like this feeling, because it's as close as robots get to having their skin peeled off of the rest of them.

Splatter-patter; you don't turn around, just keep moving. Drip-drop; you ignore the sound as it goes on. Drip-drop, splatter-patter; you make sure not to cross paths with it again.

And soon you're at some kind of exit, which doesn't really look like it, but you figure it must be because there's a familiar door standing in front of you, one that you're sure is ready to rise up the moment you come in close enough range.

It seemed like forever while it was happening, but it feels like only seconds went by now that you believe to be out. A final confrontation awaits ahead, and you have nowhere else left to go now, or anything else to keep you from reaching it. So you take a courageous step forward, and that's good enough for the thoughtless machine, because it opens up immediately.

There's only more darkness to be contemplated beyond the metal borders, but at least the sound seems to have died down behind you. It doesn't seem to be carried on within that black arena.

But still faintly it reaches, the echoes still strongly persistent within the shadows of their cave-like domain. The drip-drop and splatter-patter and plop of the acid continues to sink into the ground, ever patient, ever watchful.

You aren't at all looking forward to meeting the demented mastermind behind this whole chaos, but you decide anything he could throw at you now would be better than being confined into this more than unfriendly space for any longer. You aren't scared, because, drip-drop –scary is the sound of your head melting right off your shoulders.


End file.
